When I was a little kid, sitting around at recess with my gal pals talking about everything from Dryer's horse statues to the age of our dads (funny how the oldest dad was always the wow factor, haha), the topic of birthdays inevitably came up.
Not only did I have a goofy name (a first name nobody in the 70's recognized, and a second everyone did), I had a goofy birthday. Somehow it appeared in my mind that girls should have birthdays in April, May, or June to be able to warrant the outdoor-themed party. Sunshine, flowers, and little butterflies flitting about gracefully; you get the picture.
Thank goodness my mother had the creativity and patience to plan and implement birthday parties that kept a gaggle of girls busy and happy, minus the sunshine and flowers.
These days I pray for snow on my birthday. Go figure. Matches my graying hair.